


Sassy Danish Friend

by Cyberwulf



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Sassy Gay Friend (Comedy Skit)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-17 21:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4682114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberwulf/pseuds/Cyberwulf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Denmark plays the role of Sassy Gay Friend to the Republic of Ireland. Written for the Axis Powers Hetalia Kink Meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sassy Danish Friend

  
**Summary:** Denmark plays the role of Sassy Gay Friend to the Republic of Ireland. Written for the Axis Powers Hetalia Kink Meme.

***

Denmark had always had the uncanny ability to tell whenever one of his fellow nations was about to make a terrible mistake. As he approached the huge hoarding with “Coming Soon: Another Giant Housing Estate in the Middle of Nowhere” stencilled on the side, his sense of foreboding increased. He quickened his pace, swishing his long scarf over one shoulder. When he arrived at the entrance, he spotted a copper-haired figure standing just inside, gazing at the pristine countryside with a massive site development plan in her hands.

The Republic of Ireland was about to blow all her money on housing estates, sending her economy right down the toilet. All that stood between her and her fate was a sassy Danish friend.

“What are you doing?!”

Ireland turned around, startled, as Denmark ran up to her wagging his finger. “What, what, WHAT are you DOING?”

Ireland frowned at him in confusion, gesturing to the site. “I’m about to break ground on a new housing estate. What’s it look like?”

Denmark stared at her in disbelief. “Another one?! What is this, like, sixty now?”

“It’s a property boom!” Ireland snapped back, folding her arms defensively.

“No,” Denmark corrected, “it’s a property _bub_ -ble. If you keep blowing it up, it’s gonna burst, and then you’re gonna have to pawn all your Eurovision trophies just to keep Germany off your back!”

Ireland snorted. “Never happen. I’ve heaps of money. Have you not heard of the Celtic Tiger?”

She jerked her thumb to her left. Denmark looked and saw a large green tiger lounging disinterestedly on the grass a few yards away.

“It shits gold!” Ireland continued excitedly. She sobered a little, her expression growing serious. “And my boss says it needs lots of houses, or it’ll die.”

Denmark shook his head in disbelief, taking a few moments to come up with a rebuttal for the utter idiocy he’d just heard.

“Okay, first of all, the only mythical creatures with gold around here? Are leprechauns,” he told her. “I can’t believe _I’ve_ gotta tell _you_ that.” He put one hand on his hip, shifting his weight onto one leg. “And second of all, is this the same boss who wore a canary yellow fashion nightmare to a G8 summit? Because if it is, I don’t think you should trust his judgement.”

Ireland chewed her lip, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. “Well…”

“Prosperity’s new to you, sweetie,” Denmark said gently, touching her lightly on the arm. “When I met you, you didn’t even have a _word_ for money. Then you spent seven hundred years with a control freak who left you penniless _and_ got custody of your industrialised little brother. Now you’re finally on your feet, and you wanna flush it all away? This is why lottery winners go broke inside a year!” He gestured to the tiger and the building site. “Look at your life. Look at your choices.”

Ireland fidgeted, idly scuffing the toe of her work boot on the partially built gravel driveway. She cast a doubtful look at the tiger.

“Ah, you might have a point,” she admitted finally.

“Course I do,” Denmark answered with a smile. “Let’s go have some Guinness and talk about investments.”

“Grand!” Ireland agreed. She looked past Denmark, her expression turning sheepish. “Probably shouldn’t have bought that yoke, either.”

Denmark looked. A pimped out tractor with metallic paint, mud-splash vinyls, underglow neon and massive spinners was parked a few feet away.

“You stupid _bitch_ ,” Denmark said fondly, slapping her gently on the arm. “C’mon, let’s go return it.” He shook his head and smiled to himself as Ireland went to get her keys. “She’s a stupid _bitch_.”


End file.
